


Action!

by HoopyFrood



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: M/M, Riding, Sex Tapes, Video Cameras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoopyFrood/pseuds/HoopyFrood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taffy enjoys making home movies, so decides to turn his passion, into his pleasure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Action!

Taffy settled the camera down on its tripod and turned back to the bed with a wolfish grin, “Ready for your close-up, Mr Collins?”

Peter matched it with a wide smile of his own and unabashedly stretched out further on top of the silky sheets, his hand dropping to his belt buckle, “Ready and waiting, Mr von Trips.”

“That’s Count von Trips, to you,” he quipped and stalked towards the bed, his heart already beating erratically against his rib cage.

Part of him still couldn’t believe he’d managed to coax Peter into being filmed, despite the Brit’s willingness to try anything at least once.

The idea first came to him at Monza when he accidentally caught Peter on camera stripping out of his damp, dirty shirt after coming in from a difficult practice run. Peter, realising he was being filmed by Taffy and his trusty recorder, dropped his eyes to the floor in a poor imitation of coyness before eventually succumbing to a laugh; unable to keep up the act. Taffy’s mouth went dry. 

Knowing what he’d captured – what had been burnt onto a strip of 8mm film forever – must have given him the extra boost he needed, because that weekend he managed to achieve his first podium in a Formula One race. And since then, he’d watched the short clip back more times than he could remember; over and over, drinking in that deceptively sinful image of Peter wiping away the dark streaks from his skin with his balled up shirt.

Approaching the subject itself had been a little more difficult than he’d anticipated, though, because for all his eagerness, the time just never seemed right to ask. Luckily for him, he knew how to sweet talk, and a night in front of the fire with a nice bottle of wine had convinced an admittedly apprehensive Peter to give it a go. Which was more than Taffy could have hoped for considering the amount of secrecy and tact they’d have to adopt to pull it off.

Taffy pressed a knee onto the exposed slither of bed between Peter’s spread legs and leant over him. Peter’s eyed darted over Taffy’s shoulder to the camera behind them, subconsciously drawn to it despite trying his best to ignore its presence.

“Just forget it’s there,” Taffy soothed. “Focus on me.” As innocuous as it was, even Taffy could feel the camera’s lens burning into his back like a set of eyes belonging to an unwelcome intruder. It was a little disconcerting, but that just made it all the more exciting as far he was concerned.

Regardless, Peter visibly relaxed; melting under the adoration and sincerity in Taffy’s voice. “That,” Peter slid a hand up Taffy’s bicep and round to the back of his neck, “I can do.”

He gently rubbed at the soft skin behind his ear with the pad of his thumb and drew him down into a kiss. Their lips glided across each other with ease; teeth nipping at plump flesh and tongues softening the abused skin back down.

Now this was familiar territory.

Taffy’s fingers drifted to the buttons on Peter’s shirt and, slowly, they began to undress; taking their time for the camera without even realising it. Peter lifted up his hips so Taffy could drag down his trousers and underwear, letting his hard cock spring free. Taffy was pleased Peter had seemingly let go of what little doubt he had, allowing himself to just _feel_. Peter had always been an extremely physical person and Taffy never tired of seeing him relent to his passion, to his love. It was captivating. And something Taffy found infinitely attractive in the younger man.

Taffy flattened his body down against Peter’s until every inch of them was touching. The heat was building and the small amount of friction as their cocks brushed against each other was glorious. He leisurely sucked at Peter’s neck, enjoying the feel of the other man’s hands skimming over the plains of his back until they came to rest on his backside.

“Taffy,” Peter breathed, his voice already gravelly with lust. “Switch with me.”

The German raised his eyebrows, but complied. As they shifted around, Peter snatched the small nondescript jar that was waiting to be used off the bed side table. Taffy watched with curiosity as he unscrewed the lid and dipped his fingers in.

Peter, feeling Taffy’s questioning stare, looked up. He gave him a crooked smile and shrugged. “Well, I may as well put on a show, right?” 

And with that simple explanation, Peter’s glistening fingers disappeared between his own legs.

Taffy moaned at the sight and clutched tightly at Peter’s thighs as he worked his fingers deep into himself; stretching his muscles into surrender. His hair had fallen out of its usual slicked back style and strands were hanging limply down in front of his face. Taffy reached up to push them back, brushing against Peter’s flushed cheek as he pulled away.

“I can’t wait to watch this back with you,” Taffy admitted, his mind wandering to how the miles of smooth skin and long limbs would look wrapped around him on screen. Peter merely smiled in response, showing off his dimples, before biting down hard on his lip as he bent his fingers. Taffy had never seen anything so intensely erotic, and the ache in his groin grew.

Taffy could feel Peter’s legs twitching under his palms at the strain. He massaged them gently, transfixed, as Peter steadied himself on the head-board and gripped Taffy’s cock with his free hand. The slickness still clinging to Peter’s fingers made Taffy hiss through his teeth at they circled around him. But it was a welcome shock. 

Tentatively, Peter lowered himself down, breathing in sharply as the head of Taffy’s cock finally slipped into him. Taffy forced himself not to thrust up into the heat that had enclosed over him, entranced by Peter’s gracefulness and enjoying the display far too much to selfishly spoil it.

Peter slid down, taking every inch of Taffy until he was sitting in the other man’s lap. He arched his back in pleasure; the feeling of Taffy filling him, pushing up into him, was overwhelming. 

The cool, night air was blowing in from the wide open window and only added to the assault, chilling Peter’s skin until goosebumps prickled all over his arms. He let his eyes slip close and shivered, giving in to the barrage of sensations that washed over him in waves. After a moment of mentally readying himself, he rocked forward, unable to suppress a groan as he released a long shuddering breath, “Taffy.”

Taffy guided him into a quick kiss, one which was more for Peter’s benefit than his own. “Please,” he begged against his lips. “More.”

The desperation in his voice must have been painfully pathetic, because Peter opened his eyes and suddenly gave a sharp snap of his hips that rendered Taffy very nearly incoherent with surprise. He continued to roll and grind, taking Taffy deeper and deeper; their positions allowing that wonderful spot within him to be hit with addictive ease. He braced a hand against Taffy’s chest and lifted himself almost all the way off his cock, teasing his lover in the most deliciously devious way possible, before sinking back down. 

“God, Peter,” Taffy fit his thumbs into the hollow of Peter’s hip bones, pulling him further onto his cock, greedy with need and want.

“Good?” Peter said breathlessly, riding Taffy hard – harder than he’d ever done before – with all the power Taffy had ever associated with him, the power he usually poured into hot metal and screeching tyres. And with just as much fervour.

“I don’t think I need to answer that,” Taffy managed through a gasp, heartbeat loud in his ears and every part of him tingling as if liquid fire was burning through his veins.

Peter chuckled, deep and fond and so utterly _gorgeous_ , Taffy just couldn’t hold back any longer. He flipped them back over, pressing Peter into the bed. Peter grinned up at him, eyes flashing, and immediately linked his ankles round the small of Taffy’s back. “Come on then, Taffy,” he urged, winding his fingers through the soft hair at the base of Taffy’s neck and _pulling_.

Taffy growled at the barely concealed demand and swept down to give him a bruising kiss, pushing up into Peter as he did so; the slow build-up of passion having transformed into something more frantic and so much dirtier. He mouthed along the underside of Peter’s jaw, dragging his lips down his throat. His skin was shining with sweat and Taffy wanted to lap at every inch of him, to taste the salty tang on the tip of his tongue and so thoroughly _drown_ himself in it.

Peter threw his head back and started to pump his own neglected cock in time with Taffy’s thrusts. Taffy wished the camera was closer so it could capture every last detail of what he was seeing. The stained red of Peter’s lips, the way he’d thumb the head of his cock after every other stroke, the pure ecstasy on his face. He hoped the angle he’d set it up in would be enough to catch even a glimmer of how Peter looked.

He gripped under Peter’s knees and pushed his legs higher up, dislodging their hold around his middle. “Right,” Peter grunted as Taffy drove into him, “there.” He was trembling, yet they still moved in perfect unison; curled into each other, focused on nothing else. Taffy pressed his forehead against Peter’s and they shared a small smile through the haze, both so close to the edge.

It took one more forcefully precise thrust for Peter to clench around him and come; curving his back artfully off the bed as he rode out his climax. Taffy soon followed, relishing the feel of Peter all around him until he was utterly spent and there wasn't an ounce of energy left within. He collapsed half on top of him, their faces close enough to trade a long, languid kiss.

“Wait,” Taffy murmured and reluctantly pulled away. He quickly hopped out of their bed and stumbled over to the camera to flip off the switch, keenly aware of the need to not let the film run on unnecessarily. Peter watched in amusement as he busied himself with getting under the covers, patiently holding up one side for Taffy to dive under.

Taffy gathered Peter in his arms, a bone deep contentedness overtaking him; the stickiness drying on his skin a second thought he would deal with once he could coerce his heavy limbs into movement again.

“When you go home in a few weeks,” Peter lazily tapped his fingers against Taffy’s collarbone, “make sure that reel is not amongst the ones you show to your mother.”

Taffy laughed and buried his nose in Peter’s hair, taking the opportunity to enjoy the entwined scent of sweat, sex and Peter’s distinctive shampoo, “Oh, stop worrying.”

“I’m serious,” Peter said, a finality to his voice, “double, then triple, check.”

“I will,” Taffy promised, inwardly amused by the thought despite the possible repercussions. As accepting as his mother was, he doubted he’d ever be able to live it down. Some things were just not meant to mix.

“I’d like to be able look the woman in the eye,” Peter continued with a mumble and hooked a leg over Taffy’s, sighing in satisfaction once he got suitably comfortable against the German’s side.

Taffy playfully touched his toes against Peter’s as he stretched around to grab a pack of cigarettes from behind him. He tapped one out of the box and slipped it in between Peter’s lips, causing him to hum in thanks.

“So I take it the viewing party I promised a few of the boys is out of the question?” He joked, helpless to resist playing off Peter’s really quite charming worry.

Peter pursed his lips around the cigarette and happily whacked Taffy with a pillow.

He probably deserved it.

Not that he cared.


End file.
